The Lovelight
by RevSue
Summary: A part of Nanny's heritage overtakes her with rather surprising results – takes place after the end of the show...


The _**Lovelight**_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with this wonderful show or characters... only the rather bizarre idea! Naturally I make no money from this bit of silliness..._

Harold Everett, unable to sleep for the heat despite being exhausted, got up and splashed some cold water on his bare chest. Hearing noises from Prudence's room, he checked on his daughter. She had been sleeping restlessly again, although not as badly as when the Wiblet had been paying its visits! Two weeks ago, Nanny had told the child to call on her anytime and she would come, and Prudence seemed to call every few nights lately. He hoped the night terrors were getting better with Nanny's care, as she was very good with Prudence.

Shutting his daughter's door, he yawned, realizing he was really tired and almost sleepwalking. He risked a glance into Nanny's room and, by a faint silvery glow, saw her stretched out on the bed on top of her sheet, facing away from the door. Her short, sheer nighty was twisted up around her waist and, shocked at his sudden physical response, Harold tried in vain to turn away.

Then Nanny turned over in a single motion, and was out of the bed, reaching for her dressing gown. She froze as she suddenly noticed the Professor's still figure in the doorway. His eyes swept over her body: the creamy translucence of her skin almost gleaming through the transparent material. She was so beautiful! How he wanted her! He wanted to cover every exquisite inch of her with wet kisses ... She gasped and snatched at the dressing gown and wrapping it around herself.

Then he heard Prudence's wavering cry, "Nanny!" The woman had known again that she was going to be called!

Even hearing his daughter's distress didn't release Harold from the strange paralysis that seemed to hold him in check. This had to be a bad dream! As Nanny brushed past him, he felt her heat and his eyes closed involuntarily against a spasm of exquisite pain as his arousal grew. Maybe it was not such a bad dream... but he really should leave before she returned. He should go have a cold shower, get himself under control. He should ...

Hearing the soft murmur of her voice in his daughter's room, he found he couldn't move back to his own room. Instead, he stepped further into Nanny's room, breathing deeply of the unique lavender/lilac blend that was her own special scent. He heard the soft click of Prudence's door, then Nanny was back, hesitating in the doorway of her own room as she realized that he was still there and that a strange, silvery light was hovering.

"Professor?" Phoebe questioned at last, when he said nothing. She stepped closer to him, then her wide eyes grew frightened as the silvery light quickly spread throughout the room. To her horror, she recognized the _**Loveligh**_t, the mating ritual of her people. She tried to turn away, but it seemed as if she was being held in place by invisible fetters.

Harold was watching her, almost feeling detached, yet fascinated by her beauty. In the back of his mind, he knew he should leave, knew he had no business being here in her room, knew this was wrong. Yet something was creeping over him, taking over his mind and his body, and more and more powerfully came the urge to take Nanny, _Phoebe_, into his arms, to love her until they were both sated...

"No!" came her soft denial, and he realized she was fighting an inner urge herself. Even as she stepped closer to him, the fear in her eyes was growing. "Not NOW! No, please, not like this!" she pleaded, not looking at him but appearing to be staring at something invisible to him. Then, in a voice choked with despair, she added, "Oh, don't let the children hear us or know!"

Children? Harold's children were but a dim memory in his brain as his arms went around Phoebe. His arousal was pounding through him and he drew her up against him with a faint groan. This was wrong, but he no longer knew why. Inwardly he echoed her cry to not let anyone else know what was happening in this room. This was something beyond his ken — he had never experienced such a forceful, mind-swaying desire. On the edge of his consciousness, his reason told him again that this was a dream, nothing but a dream... relax and enjoy!

Aware of nothing now but her soft, responsive body pressed hotly to his, he bent his head and sought her lips, groaning again at the sweetness he found. Her faint protests died under the onslaught of his demanding lips, and her body betrayed her as she moved with him, frantically trying to please him as much as he was pleasing her in the growing silver light.

A lifetime of caution and care unravelled with stunning speed as the _**Lovelight**_ Phoebe had recognized too late expanded to fill the room. She cried out helplessly, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Coils of need tightened within her, becoming all but unbearable. She was trembling violently, and so very hot! With his urgent kisses, he offered her pleasure, passion and the promise of a future which she wanted so fiercely that she longed to forget all else.

The coils of every tightening pressure released suddenly, hurling Phoebe into ecstasy as she climbed the peak of desire. The silver light grew brighter, pulsing with them, feeding on their emotions and as Phoebe's passion was shattered by his kiss in a starburst of tingling awareness,, the silver _**Lovelight**_ flared up then burst apart like brilliant fireworks, showering sensations of mingled heat, joy, and love like raindrops on their bodies. Dimly Phoebe was aware of Harold's surprise at the powerful waves of passion which swept over them both, their hearts thundering together in ecstasy.

When she finally returned to herself, Phoebe was dazed, marvelling at the realization that seemed to grow within her with each breath. She loved Harold Everett. In spite of herself, she had been overtaken by the legendary _**Lovelight**_, the famed ritual of her people under which all betrothed couples were joined for life. Never before had she heard that the _**Lovelight**_ could unite couples _not_ already betrothed. Tonight she had thrown all caution and propriety to the wind, cast away a lifetime of good sense, and embraced the most shocking conduct right along with the Professor himself! She had behaved in a manner even the most charitable soul could consider nothing less than scandalous ... and, to be honest, she felt wonderful about it, but for herself, not for him.

The silvery _**Lovelight**_ was nowhere to be seen now, and she realized that, in the manner of her people, by his kisses she had just been firmly and irrevocably bound to Professor Harold Everett for all eternity. Now all she had to do was find a way to tell him ... unless she could manage to keep it a secret, and leave with him never knowing? She herself would never be able to love nor marry anyone else, but he wouldn't feel trapped by this encounter. As an outsider, surely he was not subject to the rigid dictates of the_** Lovelight**_, was he?

Phoebe's delight in their encounter was fast fading as reason returned. Harold had had no choice in the matter. How could she even imagine a future with him when he couldn't possibly love her as she now realized she loved him? How could she ever be sure that he truly _did_ love her, knowing the innate power of the _**Lovelight**_ to unite couples regardless of their first instincts?

Harold's arms dropped from her and he stepped back. "I've never experienced anything remotely like that," he said huskily, at last. With a sense of wonder, he perceived suddenly that he loved Phoebe Figalilly.

"I haven't either," Phoebe forced herself to speak lightly. "I must say, what I had assumed was a quite comprehensive education in these matters has fallen short of the mark!"

"A comprehensive education?" he echoed.

"It wasn't nearly comprehensive enough to cover someone like you."

As usual, he gave up trying to understand her, let alone ask her questions he should know by now would remain unanswered. "I love you, Phoebe Figalilly. I have for a long time, but wouldn't admit it even to myself, except in my dreams. I never thought I had a chance with you ..." he admitted softly.

"Oh, Professor..." She couldn't say anything more, overcome with emotion.

"_Do_ I have a chance in this dream?" he asked tenderly.

Phoebe couldn't allow herself to lose control again, so she stiffened her resolve. He had to be given the choice. She had to convince him to leave her room, and perhaps in the morning he would think this only a dream. If he ever sought her out again, it should be because he truly did love her, not because he had been compelled by her people's traditional 'matching of mates' light. She had been warned that she could be overtaken by it at any time, but she had been sure she would be given some warning, and be able to arrange to be where she should be - and with whom.

Now Phoebe bit her lip, wondering what she could possibly say to Harold. How could she tell him this was part of her heritage? How could she explain that she had never expected to be _here_ in California at the Everett's house when the _**Lovelight **_overtook her? How could she tell him that now he was her destiny, hers to love and cherish, that she was his for the rest of their lives and beyond? She simply could not do it. "You... you must go, Professor."

Harold, having now experienced her fervent ardour, knew he would never desire any other woman but Phoebe. She was his beyond forever. Her response to his kisses had made him feel loved again, alive again. He would never let her go. She _had_ to marry him! She would have to tell her very irritating fiancé that it was over, that she was staying here in California with the Everett family and not going here or there! "I expect after tonight we could be on a first name basis, Phoebe. And you never answered me, not that I expected it. Is there a chance you love me?"

"Prof... oh, very well, Harold!" She corrected herself at his scowl. "We can't talk about this tonight. Perhaps in the light of day tomorrow you'll... change your mind. Please, you must go now!"

He knew she was right about needing to leave although he was none too certain he would change his mind. He caught her slim figure to him for another long kiss. "This had been an incredible dream," he sighed at last before kissing her softly on the cheek, then nuzzling her ear. "I really do love you, Phoebe Figalilly ..."

She shivered at the light touches, and swayed into him again. If he _didn't_ remember this night, she wanted one last moment, one more kiss, one more caress ... then she pulled away from him abruptly. "Prudence," she explained in a whisper.

He hadn't heard a thing, but took her word for it. Then he heard Prudence's quavering voice, "Nanny? Nanny!" and Phoebe was gone.

Against his inclination, Harold started for the door himself and this time found he could leave her room. For a moment he stood just outside Prudence's door, listening to Phoebe soothe the child's fears. "Tell you what, Prudence," she was saying, "I'll lend you a special night light. It's one I had when I was little and was afraid of the dark. It has special powers ..."

Harold rolled his eyes, but smiled indulgently. Phoebe was one in a million. How had he been so lucky as to find her — or to have her find _him_? He yawned again. Phoebe was incredible. Their passionate interlude was already taking on a dream-like quality, having been beyond anything in his previous experience. He padded into his own room, crawled into bed, and promptly fell asleep, hoping to continue his dream.

Phoebe slowly came back into her own room when Prudence had gone back to sleep, knowing he would be gone, but wishing he could have stayed. She didn't know whether or not she _wanted_ him to remember their kisses as a dream. Would someone such as he have even noticed the _**Lovelight**_? If she had to explain it to him, what should she say, and what should she leave unsaid? How could she explain that she should have been with Cholmondeley, but now she never would be?

Phoebe shot upright in the bed again, horrified. Cholmondeley! She was aghast that she had completely forgotten all about him. How could she explain any of this to Cholmondeley? For the first time since her betrothed's arrival just four months ago, she conceded that she had acted as if her people's traditions meant nothing to her. She should have realized that the _**Lovelight**_ was drawing closer and that Cholmondeley had been aware of its imminence else he would not have sought her out so precipitously.

Her heart almost broke for the boy she had loved as a brother and a friend. Now she could never love Cholmondeley as a lover should, for her passion and love and her very life had been irrevocably committed to Professor Harold Everett. That was a fact that was as undeniable as it was thrilling. She smiled sadly to herself, thinking of her flippant, "Oh, I'm absolutely devoted to him!" when Harold had asked if she loved Cholmondeley. The pragmatic man had been aghast at the very idea of her arranged betrothal. What would he think of the _**Lovelight**_, the primeval consummation and fulfilment of that ancient covenant? Overcome with questions that seemed unanswerable, Phoebe finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, rationality had returned. She was bound to Harold Everett, she was his. Whether or not he truly wanted her was up to him to decide, however, and Phoebe had to be sure it _was_ his choice, not just fallout from his encounter with the _**Lovelight**_!

For his part, when he awoke, Harold's mind was filled with the particularly vivid erotic dream he had had. He could almost see Nanny, _his children's nanny_, her incredible blue eyes soft and hazy with desire, her lips kiss-swollen, her skin flushed. Just thinking about her made him hot, and he hurriedly jumped out of bed, shaking his head to clear it of lustful thoughts that he had no business harbouring for the engaged woman in his employ.

Finally appearing in the kitchen where Nanny was serving Butch and Prudence breakfast, Harold found he couldn't look Nanny in the eye. He was embarrassed that his subconscious had obviously taken over his dreams and played tricks on him. He truly hoped nothing he said or did now would give him away. But beneath his mortification was a strong welling of passion for the beautiful woman in his home.

Almost inexplicably and with no more tangible reason than wonderfully erotic dreams, Harold knew without a doubt that he loved this woman deeply and he wanted to marry her. He wanted her to care for him as deeply as he had come to care for her. He wanted her to love him and live with him forever. All he had to do now was figure out how to convince_ her _of that!

"Did you guys hear anything funny last night?" Hal asked, coming in and sitting down at the table.

"Like what?" Harold came out of his reverie and stared at his son.

"Nanny came to me when I called for her," Prudence said, "Is that what you heard?"

"I couldn't tell what it was. Groans or gasps or something. Weird. I almost thought someone was dying!" Hal shrugged and began eating his cereal.

"Oh yeah, I thought I heard something," Butch agreed, "but I went back to sleep before I could listen harder."

His heart suddenly beating wildly, Harold Everett raised his eyebrows, turned and met Nanny's horrified eyes, reading the truth in them. He and Phoebe Figalilly had indeed kissed last night... the most incredible kissage of his life. Yes, he had been married and yes, he had loved his wife dearly... but Phoebe had touched something deep inside him that perhaps had not even been in his younger self to touch. He had kissed her and she had responded with so much passion that he had almost exploded with the ecstasy!

When the children had gone to school, Harold studied the subdued woman at the table with him. What could he say to her? As he recalled the events of the night-time "encounter", vague though his memories were of the details, he had simply swept her along, given her no chance to protest. He cringed inwardly, knowing she had every right to despise him. He had been the one to lay down his terms that very first morning, and he was the one who had broken them. He should have left her alone...

Phoebe's head came up, and her blue eyes stared directly into his. "No." she said firmly and Harold knew she had read his very thoughts... as usual.

They both impulsively said, "I'm sorry!" at the same time.

Her smile was tremulous and his was wry. She spoke first. "It was not your fault, Professor. I'm sure you realize that you did not _force_ me to respond to your kisses. Like you, I am not sorry we kissed. I am just sorry that... that our... our... encounter... was not your choice. Not mine, either. Not really."

"On the contrary," Harold took her hand purposefully. "Kissing you was very much my choice, Phoebe. _Our_ choice, I hope."

"You don't understand," she tried to say desperately, "you see, my people ... it was the _**Lovel.**_..."

"Phoebe, I know your customs are different from mine, and I don't pretend to understand everything. I _do_ know that I love you, and I want to marry you. I _also_ know that I have to go to work. I have a very important faculty meeting in less than an hour which is scheduled to last all day. Will you promise to be here when I get home? We have to talk." His hand gripped hers tightly but gently, and his voice was low and earnest.

What could she do but acquiesce to his appeal? All day, as she made beds, cleaned the house, cooked the supper, Phoebe's thoughts were on Harold and the wonders to which he had introduced her. Cholmondeley's kisses had _never_ affected her nearly as much as Harold's had! She and Cholmondeley had rarely kissed and when they had, the kisses were brief, matter-of-fact, dispassionate. If only last night's kissing had happened without benefit of the _**Lovelight**_! How could she ever trust that Harold's passion for her was real and was his own, not simply a product of being caught with her in the silvery beams of the _**Lovelight**_?

All day, as he struggled to keep his mind on university matters, Harold thought about Phoebe Figalilly. She was the most confusing, bewitching, bewildering, lovable woman he had ever met, and he knew he would never rest until she was his. He wasn't sure what it was about the tiny, feisty woman that made him ache to possess her. She was lovely, but so were dozens of other women he'd known. No, it was something special ... something uniquely _her_ that was driving him wild today.

Supper was its usual noisy time, with Butch and Prudence squabbling and Hal trying to explain an experiment to Phoebe and his father, talking loudly over his younger siblings. After supper, Hal dragged his father down to the lab in the basement while Phoebe played referee to Butch and Prudence. She only had a chance to return to the kitchen after the children were all in bed and, while Harold was upstairs saying goodnight, she quickly did up the dishes.

As she was wiping the table, Harold entered the room. "At last, we're alone!" he said huskily, taking Phoebe in his arms and wrenching the dishcloth from her hand to toss it on the table carelessly.

His lips descended on hers forcefully, and Phoebe moaned as a flame flickered to life inside her, eroding her bones. The passion, once ignited, grew and neither seemed capable nor anxious to suppress it.

"The children ..." she murmured, as his lips travelled to her ear and nuzzled under the loose curls which fell over her shoulders. Shivers of delight shook her slight frame.

"Asleep ..." he nipped the nape of her neck, and her head fell back helplessly, baring her throat to his ministrations.

"Harold ..." she breathed, "Please ... this isn't right ..."

"It feels right." Determined he would not rush, he dropped more light, playful kisses on her mouth, savouring the sweet taste of her. Dimly he heard her gasp, but the softly female sound only drove him further. "I adore you, Nanny-will-do..."

"Ohhh..." Her faint gasp died away under his lips.

"Tell me you want me to kiss you," he said, his voice tight with desire as he struggled for control.

There was a certain repressed violence in his actions that, for all her lack of experience, communicated itself clearly to Phoebe. Another woman might have been frightened by such rampant male need, but she was not. Instead, she was highly aroused, a discovery that shocked her more than anything he could do. She prevaricated, "Please ..."

"Say it," he demanded. "Say you want me ... like this ... always! I love you, Phoebe Figalilly ... I want to hear you say you love me in return ... I want to hear you _say_ you want my kisses ..."

She trembled in his arms, trying to relieve the throbbing tension that was tightening all through her heated body. "Please ..." Her body language urged him to hurry, but the words he wanted to hear remained locked in her throat. If only she could be sure he truly loved her, and he was not merely reacting to last night's encounter with the _**Lovelight**_!

"Say it!" he demanded again, his kisses remaining light and teasing in spite of her attempts to make him deepen them.

With a sob of defeat, she panted, "Yes, I want you to kiss me ...!" Oh, how she wanted it to be because he truly _did_ love her, not because of the _**Lovelight**_! Surely he would not be this insistent otherwise, would he?

"Do you love me?" Harold persisted.

"Yes!"

"Will you marry me and stay with me forever?"

"Ohhh!" Her voice was strangled. What if this _was _all because of the _**Lovelight**_? If only she could think through the rising pleasure!

"Will you marry me, Phoebe Figalilly?"

"I ... I ..." She kept trying to kiss him with the passion she had experienced last night, but he kept evading her, allowing only light touches.

"Will you marry me?" he asked again, drawing back very slightly.

Phoebe's eyes widened suddenly and she pushed away from him. "The door!" she whispered.

A knock sounded at the kitchen door, and Harold let out his breath in a whoosh. He released her, saying irritably, "Who on earth would be coming here this late? Rather unorthodox, I'd say!"

As Phoebe was smoothing a trembling hand over her hair, Harold crossed to the door and opened it, only to stare rather stupidly at the man standing sheepishly in front of him. "I should have known," Harold muttered.

"My dear sir, how could you possibly have known? Even I didn't know until today," Cholmondeley said with a rather forced smile, a look of strain in his eyes.

"Cholmondeley!" Phoebe stared at her betrothed, and guilt rose up strongly within her.

Then Cholmondeley turned and reached out a hand, pulling a lovely young woman out of the shadows to stand beside him.

"Sleeping Lotus!" Phoebe brushed past Harold and greeted her cousin with a fierce hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Well ..."

"Sleeping Lotus?" Harold's head was reeling. Wasn't that the name Phoebe's cousin in the Far East had taken? What _was_ she doing here? And with Chumley, of all people! He eyed the three who had fallen silent, each looking rather guiltily and shamefacedly at the others.

"Why, Cholmondeley ... Sleeping Lotus..." Phoebe said, slowly, "you both..." A light seemed to break over her. "You're ... together!"

"Yes, we were married this morning." Cholmondeley nodded. "We feared your reaction, my darling Phoebe, but I see by your face, and by that of your Professor here, that you two had the same experience Sleeping Lotus and I did last night!"

His meaning was obvious to Phoebe. He and Sleeping Lotus had been overtaken by the _**Lovelight**_ as well. Phoebe's heart swelled with joy for them, and she fervently wished them well. Granted, it had never occurred to her that those two would become friends and now lovers!

"When is YOUR wedding, Phoebe?" Sleeping Lotus asked. Her voice was low and musical, and she smiled enchantingly at Harold, who remained rigid with shock. "You make a lovely couple, if I may say so."

"Well, we haven't exactly discussed dates," Phoebe forced a laugh. "We haven't finished discussing marriage and haven't even mentioned anything to ..."

"The children?" Cholmondeley finished her sentence. "Ah, but they will be delighted. I see no need to linger. Not now. And, my dear sir," he smiled at Harold, "let me say that I know just how you feel. One day you think yourself fancy-free, and the next you find that your heartstrings have been entwined around another's, and you cannot imagine your life without her."

"Right," Harold grunted, rather reluctantly.

"And you want to marry her the moment it is possible!" Cholmondeley continued.

"Right again," was the dry comment.

"And Sleeping Lotus will stand up with Phoebe, and I will give her away, in the absence of her beloved father!" finished Cholmondeley triumphantly.

Harold smiled in grim satisfaction. At least at _this_ wedding he would be the groom, instead of the father of the bride! "We'll arrange it as ..."

"Soon as you can, I know. The children will have to be informed in the morning, then ..." Cholmondeley began making plans.

Sleeping Lotus saw the panicked look in Phoebe's eyes and yanked on her husband's arm, stopping him midsentence. "Cholmondeley, I need to speak with Phoebe. Privately. Keep the Professor company for a moment, will you please?"

Without waiting for an answer, the petite woman took Phoebe's hand and pushed her into the hallway. "Why are you hesitating, Phoebe? He's obviously right for you!" she hissed as soon as they were alone.

"Sleeping Lotus, you don't understand! What if he doesn't_ really_ love me? The _**Lovelight**_..."

"Doesn't work on outsiders! You should know that after all your contact with them!" Sleeping Lotus spoke fiercely but softly. "If he says he loves you, he _does_! The _**Lovelight**_ has only made it clear to _you_ what your destiny in life will be!"

"You're certain of that?" Phoebe hardly dared believe it, but she hoped with all she had in her.

"Positive! Aunt and Uncle already have given their blessing. They told us that you and your Professor could make your plans without Cholmondeley's help, although the poor dear offered."

"You spoke with my parents?" Phoebe cried, tears coming to her eyes at the thought of the people she loved dearly and hadn't seen for two long years.

"On our way here. They said to say that they are happy for you, _very_ happy," Sleeping Lotus hugged her cousin, "and they expect that you will all go over to visit soon. They are most anxious to meet their newly-acquired grandchildren. Now come, before Cholmondeley scares away your love!"

They hurried back to the kitchen, and Sleeping Lotus stopped Cholmondeley's monologue mid-sentence, seeing the glaze in Harold's eyes. "Come along, dear, we have to go. You _know_ Aunt and Uncle told you to leave them to make their own plans!"

"I will never get used to this," Harold commented to no one in particular.

Cholmondeley chuckled, not at all offended by the interruption or Harold's comment. "With darling Phoebe by your side, my dear sir, you will find your entire life will be a wonderful adventure, just as mine will be with _my_ lovely bride!" Obeying Sleeping Lotus' continued tugging on his arm, he raised his hat and bowed to Harold. "We shall be at the Kings' Arms when you require us as witnesses to your nuptials." and they were gone.

"Cholmondeley and Sleeping Lotus!" Phoebe murmured, a radiant smile crossing her face. "I never would have thought that they ..."

"They are settled ... as _we_ need to be settled now!" Harold took her firmly in his arms again. "You are going to marry me soon, aren't you?" His lips resumed their teasing dance over her face.

"_YES_!" she gasped at last, knowing he would not relent until she agreed with him and wanting to marry him more than she had ever wanting anything in her entire life.

Finally his lips were on hers firmly, hot and seering, his passion colliding with hers and intensifying dramatically. He held her so tightly that her feet left the floor as she strained upwards into his kisses. Phoebe loved the sheer, unexpected wonder of it all. She had never known her body could feel such delight and joy! Then Harold eased away slightly and Phoebe slid almost bonelessly down until her feet were once again flat on the floor.

"I do believe you were swept off your feet, Miss Figalilly, soon to be Mrs. Harold Everett." he murmured, staring down into her dazed eyes still cloudy with the passion they had just shared. "The wedding will be tomorrow?" He had no intentions of releasing her from her promise to marry him, although he half expected her to try to wriggle out of it somehow. He had been very happily married, and had had a few discreet liaisons since his wife's death, but never in his entire life had he experienced something even close to what had transpired between Phoebe and himself last night and again just now!

"Now, Professor Everett," Phoebe said severely, when she could breathe again, however raggedly. "The poor judge is busy for the rest of this week, but I'm sure we can prevail upon her next week, which will be better for Prudence as well, and as for Butch and Hal ..."

"No plans now, Nanny," he interrupted her, teasingly. "Tonight is for us." His mouth again worked his magic on her lips, and she clung to him weakly. "I can't imagine a greater happiness than loving you for the rest of my life, Phoebe. Together, always!"

Her assent was lost in the fire of his kiss, sending her into a whirlpool of swirling emotions. The words "together, always" echoed on, warming her as much as the loving did.

The End


End file.
